


Romeo and . . . Romeo?

by PrinceParrots



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceParrots/pseuds/PrinceParrots
Summary: This was a joke and now I want it to be real.





	1. Chapter 1

For as long as the Canis family’s bloodline ran red through each member’s veins, they’d been proper enemies of the Novaeangliae family. The reasons for such a deep rooted feud had long since been lost, leaving only hostility and a white hot vendetta in its wake. Attacks were routine from both sides, more often the Novaeangliae family would rush in to ruin Canis hunts or fun, though the Canis’ did not shy from harassing young Novaeangliae children. 

However, such is the way of children to do exactly what they’re told not to. To deny the nature that is to refute boundaries set by man would be a fool’s errand. To that, members of each family would quickly learn.

_ Mama didn’t raise a fool.  _ Bo had heard it all his life. From the time he was a small child up into his teen years, that’s all he heard from his mother and all the family around them.  _ Mama didn’t raise a fool.  _ He’d been a young, dumb child. He did young, dumb things. His mother would always just shake her head and repeat those words.  _ Mama didn’t raise a fool. _ The first time Bo got into a fistfight hadn’t been with a Canis as expected of his family. He’d gotten into a spat with a shark half his size and twice his age. Granted he’d only been around six or seven at the time, and what it had been they fought over soon became lost to him but all he knew was that he threw the first punch. Truth be told the harsh bones of cheek and jaw hurt his knuckles and made his fist sting after contact. He’d hissed and shaken his hand out only to find an explosion of pain in his own cheek, his vision going white for a moment and his throat choking on a silent cry. By the end of it they’d both been bruised and bloodied and his mother dragged him away, shaking her head solemnly and pointing a harsh finger in his purpled face.  _ “Bo, you don’t hit that boy. You save that anger. You bite your tongue and clench your teeth and you ball your fists at your side but you don’t say a word. You don’t move a muscle. You save it. You let it build and you let it all out later. You save that rage for a Canis. Mama didn’t raise a fool.” _

And so, Bo did just that. He’d never hit another person. He bit his tongue, he clenched his teeth, and he kept his fists balled at his sides when he got angry. But he never fought. He always reminded himself of what mama said. He’d save it for a Canis because she didn’t raise a fool.

She may not have raised a fool, but she did raise a patient man. 

Even when whittling away at an old piece of wood, he remained patient. His knife had long since become dull and he hadn’t the slightest idea how to sharpen it so he continued to roughly scrape the dull blade against the wood, doing a better job of smoothing it than actually chipping away at any of it by then. His eyebrows had knit together in his concentration so long that his face began to ache and his large hands grew shaky from the tight grip. He’d slipped once or twice, the bandages littering his hands from that whittling session as well as previous ones. The sandy bank where he sat was quiet, and even if it weren’t his focus sure would have drowned out any noise. His hand slipped once more, the dull blade slapping against his fingers and by then only leaving an angry red line but no gash. He huffed, resisting the urge to break every item in his hands.

“You know yer knife is dull, right?”

Bo jolted, almost sending all his things flying in his surprise. He fumbled with the knife once more, lips tugging down in a deep frown. “You think I don’t know that?” He snapped, turning quickly toward the voice.

He almost dropped his knife as he caught sight of the other boy. His hair a striking white, with big, dark eyes staring widely but curiously at him. He leaned over a large rock, arms folded over it as he leaned closer, peering into Bo’s hands at his craft.

“It’s a shit knife,” he remarked, flashing pointed teeth. “You should really get a new one. Or sharpen that piece a shit. Trust me, I know a good knife when I see one, and that ain’t it, son.” His southern drawl caught Bo’s attention, emphasis on all the wrong syllables with pronunciation more difficult than any he’d heard before. Part of it irritated him and part of it intrigued him. Another part of it made him self conscious about his own thick accent, unused to that area of ocean’s dialect.

“Ja, whatever.” He cringed at his inability to pronounce Ws, the sound coming out closer to a v. “What’s it to you?” He gazed at the other through the corner of his eye, something about him seeming familiar yet foreign. Like a word stuck to the tip of his tongue but hiding just out of his mind’s reach.

“What’s with yer voice? You talk like an idiot.”

Bo pretended the avoidance of his question didn’t bother him. “You talk like you’re inbred.”

The other boy snorted, cracking a lazy half smile at Bo’s insult. The sound tempted a smile though Bo refused, keeping his expression just at annoyed and swallowing down the small chuckle that threatened to escape him. “Yer kinda funny. What’s yer name?”

Bo eyed the boy again. His insides twisted nervously, something screaming at him that something about the other was off. He eyed him, glossing over tan skin and toned muscles, noting his large, black hands and relaxed stature. He pursed his lips but soon gave in, nothing giving him any reason to not oblige. “Bo.” He huffed.

“Bo,” the other repeated, seeming to mull over the name. “Is that short fer somethin’ stupid?”

Bo frowned. “I don’t think you’d know stupid if it hit you in the face.”

The other grinned again, leaning forward over the rock and pointing to his left cheek. “Right here. Go ahead, son. Jus’ gimme a little poke and I’ll tell ya what’s stupid.”

Bo rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching upward with the threat of a smile. He pointed to the other. “Your name?”

“Chet.” He held his hand out, which Bo took skeptically but shook anyways. “So,” he hummed, peering into Bo’s lap to look at his half carved driftwood. “What are ya makin’?”

“Violin.”

Chet’s face scrunched up, wrinkling his nose and squinting. “Why? What good’s that?”

A small ghost of a smile split across Bo’s face and he shook his head. “Music is important. Instruments improve that experience.” He paused. “I’ve never made one before. My family makes them and it’s my turn to start learning too. I’m practicing.”

Chet nodded thoughtfully. “So you just carve some wood and then it makes music?”

Bo choked on a laugh, shaking his head and relaxing his arms. “Not exactly. But the shape is important. It carries sound.”

Chet frowned. A moment later he held out his hand, white palm up, wiggling his fingers. “Gimme.”

One eyebrow shot to Bo’s hairline, eyeing Chet’s hand and then his admittedly attractive face. “Vas?”

Chet rolled his eyes, pointing to Bo’s knife and then opening his hand again. “The knife. Give it to me an’ I’ll sharpen it fer ya.”

Bo looked back to the dull knife in his hands, muttering out a quiet “oh.” He placed it in Chet’s palm slowly, continuing to hold it for a moment longer before he allowed his own hand to slide away. The spots where his skin brushed against the other’s seemed to tingle and he pulled his hand close, rubbing gingerly at the spots, relaying the feeling of Chet’s smooth skin on his own. Chet shoved the knife into the belt around his waist, which Bo hadn’t seen behind the rock Chet had propped himself up against. He dug around, tugging another knife out and holding it out to Bo.

“Take it. I got tons. We’ll swap back once I sharpen yers.” He nudged the hilt forward, trying to poke at Bo with it.

Bo grasped the smooth handle, admiring the craftsmanship and flawless build. He looked up at Chet again, eyebrow quirked. “You sure you want me to have this?”

Chet shrugged. “I got tons. Just a swap fer a bit anyways. Don’t want you goin’ without a way to protect yerself. Ocean’s got bastards in it left and right.” He nodded toward Bo, wrapping the latter’s knife in a small cloth. “You seem nice enough anywho. Unlike those big bastards.”

Bo frowned, his curiosity piqued at the bitterness of Chet’s tone. “Big bastards?” He echoed. Chet gave a curt nod, complete seriousness taking place of his lazily intrigued look. Bo’s fingers danced across the hilt of the knife, admiring the smooth wood until Chet came closer, his face inches away from Bo’s. He grinned, tilting his head to the side as Bo felt his face heat, his stomach twisting in knots for some unknown reason.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect ya from them.” He hummed. 

Bo shuffled back, hairs standing on end as that constrictive feeling in his chest continued to coil. “I can protect myself just fine.” He muttered, looking to the ground.

“Sure thing, princess,” Chet snickered. “Meet me back here again tomorrow. I’ll have yer knife ready fer ya.”

“Ah, okay,” Bo stuttered. Part of him lurched, almost wanting to grab Chet and keep him there just a minute longer but there was no reason to and so he shook his head to dispel the thoughts but by the time he’d collected himself, the other had already disappeared into the expanse of ocean. Bo smiled to himself, his stomach in nervous twists and his heart beating loud in his chest. He looked at the knife in his hands, sharp and well loved and he ran his fingers across the name etched into the hilt. He traced over each letter, memorizing the spelling until his eyes landed on the surname. After “Chet” etched in just as beautifully left a dull ache smoldering behind a wake of panic. His eyes widened and his mind blanked as he read the full name Chet Canis.

Turns out mama did raise a terrible, terrible fool. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is short so it's a double update.

Bo had been panicking all day. Every noise or sudden movement made him jump, holding onto the lent knife in a white knuckled grip. It occurred to him later that he could just lie and say he stole it if anyone saw he’d acquired a new knife that had the Canis name on it. However, he was never one to be amazingly sensible or rational at times. Panic he could do.

He was sure his family had noticed the odd behavior and had just been polite enough to not mention it. He’d hardly been able to sleep and when the next day came he had to stop himself from immediately rushing off to go meet Chet. He had considered his options, one being don’t show up and hope to never cross paths again. But that idea created a dull pain in his chest that he couldn’t seem to smother. So he found himself sitting nervously in the sand, back pressed firm against a large boulder, knife in hand. His heart thrummed loud in his ears and he stared down so hard at the sand his vision went blurry and his head hurt.

He almost stabbed Chet when he peered over the smooth stone, uttering a sudden “howdy” above Bo. Bo shoved himself away, whipping around to face Chet through wide eyes and pink dusted cheeks.

“Woah, no need fer alarm darlin’” Chet held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not too keen on hurtin’ ya.”

“You will be soon,” Bo muttered. 

Chet cocked his head to the side, barking a quick “what?”

“Take this back!” Bo shoved the borrowed knife into Chet’s arms. “And don’t talk to me anymore! You’ll get in trouble. We both will.”

“Now what are you on about?” Chet huffed. “I thought we were getting on pretty nice yesterday.”

The hurt in his voice made Bo’s heart ache. “You’re a Canis. We can’t be friends.” He swallowed, fidgeting with his head down. 

“Now what in tarnation do ya-“ he paused, cutting himself off with a quieter “-oh.” Bo nodded solemnly. “Yer a grey. Aint ya.” Bo nodded again, flinching when Chet flicked his tail angrily, his fists balled tightly at his sides. “I dunno how I didn’t fuckin’ notice that one. Real genius I am, huh.”

“To be fair, I didn’t put it together until I saw your name on the hilt.” He twiddled his thumbs, bracing for the other to lunge forward. Maybe he shouldn’t have given him the knife without at least getting his back first. Curse his terrible foresight.

“Shut up, you ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He stilled, side eyeing Bo. “You don’t act like one of thems neither.”

“Well you don’t act like an orca either.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Chet frowned, placing his hands on his hips and Bo almost wanted to giggle.

“Same thing it meant when you said I don’t act like a grey.”

Chet snorted and shook his head. “You sunnova bitch. You got a sharp tongue. Better watch it. I’m the one with the knives, son.”

“I stand corrected. Typical of you to start an unfair fight.”

“You trynna pick a fight wit’ me now?” Chet scoffed. “So you do got a spicy side under all that sweet.”

Bo frowned, hiding his reddening face behind his bangs. “You just don’t know me that well yet is all.”

Chet seemed to perk up at that, inching closer. “Yet?” Bo hid further. “Yet? You mean you aint gonna kick me to the curb? You sayin’ we still gonna be friends an’ all? Like a secret meetup kinda thing? We stop by here every so often an’ hang out.” He pulled Bo’s knife out of a sheath around his waist, holding the newly sharpened tool out eagerly. “I can teach ya to sharpen it. Or you can just keep given’ ‘em to me. Then I got a reason fer you to keep me around. You can show me yer violin an’ stuff.” He breathed a heavy sigh and nodded to himself. To Bo. “Like friends.”

Bo pursed his lips. Not exactly what he’d been intending but the suggestion didn’t sound too terrible. They’d already met once and no one was around. No one knew. “I mean,” he bit his lip, “I guess. If that’s alright. If you don’t think we’ll get in any kind of trouble I mean.”

Chet shrugged. “There’s a risk. But what’s life without risks?” He shook his head, wiggling the knife for Bo to take, which he did so slowly. “I ain’t got much. The boys back in the pod aint so nice all the time. It’s always fightin’ and punchin and rough housin’. But you. You talk to me. You got a sharp tongue and wit. It’s not all fist fightin’ and shit. The only time we gotta is if someone catches us. Then I’ll give ya a free hit right to the gut ‘fore someone comes an’ breaks us up. Then we do it all again.”

Bo’s lip twitched, and he cracked a smile which quickly shifted to a full blown grin. “You’re an idiot. Your mother raised the biggest fool around.”

Chet huffed, his own smile fading slightly. “How do ya mean?”

Bo reached out, grasping his knife and looking up at Chet. “You’re in luck. My mama raised just as big a fool.”

  
  


The following weeks and eventual months were the same thing. Once they got some free time they’d meet at the same spot. Chet showed Bo his extensive knife collection, seemingly having a new one each day to proudly present. Bo had also brought his violin and after careful and extensive surveying of the area, allowed himself to play a few songs for Chet. And so they did just that. Bo would play or whittle while Chet listened or chattered on endlessly about life and events. 

They’d only run into a few awkward moments, their respective groups running into each other and starting up petty insult wars and at worst a quick and dirty squabble between a few people until older members of each family broke them up. Moments like that were strange for the two of them. Having to act like they didn’t know each other or even like each other. They’d done their best to stay away from one another without looking suspicious. Even through acting and a mutual no hard feelings agreement, neither could bring themselves to harm the other.

Like usual, they lay in the sand, Chet going on about some drama between the other teens and young adults in his pod. Bo admired his expressiveness, the way he waved his hands in the air and still how silly his thick southern accent sounded. The louder and more excited he got, it seemed the heavier his accent became too until at some points Bo couldn’t quite tell what he was saying. He enjoyed listening nevertheless. It had always been relaxing. Listening to him talk, resting in the sunshine, and feeling warm sand on his back. He couldn’t ask for anything better.

Bo yawned, stretching his arms high above his head and Chet quieted, watching him silently. He smiled, elbowing Bo in the ribs. “What? Am I boring you?”

Bo hummed, tucking his hands behind his head. “You? Never.”

“Am I detectin’ some sarcasm?” Chet feigned offense, sitting up and squinting at Bo.

Bo snorted. “No. I’m totally not falling asleep with all your incessant blabbering.”

“Oh I’m puttin’ you to sleep? I’ll show you incessant blabbering!” He lunged forward, grabbing Bo’s wrists and pinning him to the ground with a laugh. The latter giggled, shoving back until they swapped positions, Chet hitting the ground with a soft huff and more giggles. They continued to roll and squirm about, laughing and shoving at each other in their impromptu wrestling match. 

“What the hell is goin’ on here?”

Bo and Chet both jolted, shoving each other away and stumbling back, both looking wide eyed with panic at where the voice came from. An orca woman stood staring at the two. She then fixed her glare onto Chet, snarling at him. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“We was fightin’.” He reasoned timidly.

“Fightin’? You don’t fight with a fuckin’ smile on yer damn face, get yer ass over here!” She shouted, pointing to the ground beside her. She turned her attention to Bo, glowering at him, her lips peeled back, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “And you stay the hell away from my son, ya hear? I see you messin’ with his head again and I’ll beat yer ass into next week.” Bo nodded frantically, inching backward as she glared at Chet once more, striking him across his cheek. “You knock yer shit off, ya hear? I’ll fuckin’ beat some sense into ya if I see you fuckin’ around like that again. Such a dumbass. I taught you better.”

Chet nodded, staring down at the ground and answering a quiet “yes mama.” She gripped his wrist, dragging him away. Bo tried to ignore the guilt pooling inside but when Chet didn’t look back he couldn’t hold back his quiet sobs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place a few years in the future. Between the last chapter and this one- the two weren't allowed to see each other.

Bo sat quietly at the bar, staring down into his drink. He wasn’t one for going out, much less to any bars or clubs but with the upcoming baby and his wife’s protective nature over her swollen stomach, he figured he could use a drink or two to try and settle his nerves. Not that he didn’t love his wife or baby, in fact even though the baby wasn’t yet ready to come out, he’d already spent the majority of his time talking and playing music softly for the little guy. However, his wife hardly let anyone near her- even scrutinizing name choices until Bo decided it was the right time for the rare occurrence of him being stubborn and firm came into play.

He shook his head, taking a drink and sighing. Life had been boring. He’d gotten married on a whim and his wife proved more and more crazy with each passing day- especially with the upcoming baby. He’d resigned himself to music and instrument making and so his life became rather dull. Selling instruments wasn’t exactly hot business, nor were many of the people he met very interesting. In fact, many of the drunk and tipsy patrons of the bar were more interesting to watch stumble around or try to flirt with one another than anyone who’d come to him to inquire about anything from a bass to a violin. 

He continued to survey the bar until he caught sight of a strikingly familiar person. Slicked silver hair, bright eyes, tanned skin, and a distinct black and white orca patterning had Bo choking on his drink enough for some to come out his nose. He coughed, covering his face and looking away, wanting nothing more than to sink into the bar and never be seen or heard from again.

All his sputtering seemed to have attracted attention as suddenly he felt someone beside him and then what was likely supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder that only proved to spike his anxiety and redden his face.

“You okay there pardner?”

_ Fuck. _

Bo near melted at the familiar sound of a thick southern twang. He hadn’t heard it in years and yet it was more pleasant than even the most skilled of classically trained musicians performances. “Ah, yeah,” he stuttered, pulling himself up into a proper sitting position. He stared down at the bar, too nervous to look up at the other. Almost as though if he did, the other might cease to exist or maybe turn out to be someone else entirely.

“Bo? I haven’t seen you in years.” His voice was soft and gentle and memories of laying half asleep in the sun came flooding back and threatened to make tears spring from Bo’s eyes. “How have you been?”

Bo cleared his throat, straightening again and staring down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid around. “Fine. Fine. Yourself?”

“Hey, you don’t gotta worry. It’s just me here. None of my family or anything. I’m just takin’ a break. Yer safe.” He paused, chewing on his lip. “It’s been a real long while. I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t miss you none.” Bo nodded, still too scared to look up from his drink, staring intently down at his reflection. “A lot happens in a little under ten years, huh? I mean- I never thought I’d be a father.”

Bo swallowed thickly, staring down at his hands. “You got kids now? How many?” He didn’t want it to hurt. Hearing that Chet had a family. It shouldn’t have hurt, especially since he was building a family of his own as well.

Chet seemed just as nervous, hands fidgeting with his glass. “Ah, four.” He cleared his throat after. “All girls. Except the last one. Finally managed a boy.”

Bo nodded slowly, still unable to look at the other man. He couldn’t tell if the heat radiating from his face was due to the alcohol in his system or the close proximity or both. “I see. I got one on the way. Baby boy we’re pretty sure. Mom says she can tell. She can feel it I guess.”

“You uh- you married?”

Bo felt his heart stop at the question. The word “no” sat at the tip of his tongue, willing him to spout it. Though what good would that do? He swallowed hard again, biting his lip and giving in with a sigh. “Yeah. You?” It hurt to say it. He did love his wife a lot. More than anything. Or at least almost anything.

There was a moment of silence save for the general background bar ambiance. Bo just wanted to get up and leave with every passing second of missing conversation. Finally Chet let out a quiet breath and took a drink. “Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s not that I really wanted to. Just- they wanted someone strong to make the next pod leader a great one, ya know?” Chet ran a finger around the rim of his glass, swirling it around and staring down into his drink. “You like your wife or is it an arranged thing?”

Bo tensed. He wasn’t sure what to say. He did love his wife. That is a part of why he married her. But something made him feel guarded. A small voice in the back of his mind shouting quietly to not make himself look unavailable, despite the both of them being married and having kids. He hesitated, words getting caught in his throat until he settled on a half truth. “She’s a musician too. Just made sense I guess. Plus, I think my family wanted to make us look tougher by getting a couple blue whales on our side.”

Chet let out a low whistle and sat back in his chair, gripping the countertop tight. “You married a blue? And yer havin’ a kid wit’ her? Wallace, that’ll be a big baby.”

Bo couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips nor the soft smile it brought. He shook his head lightly. “Yeah. I got to name him.”

That seemed to gain Chet’s attention as he sat up straight again, looking at Bo through wide eyes. “Yeah? What’d you name him?”

Bo allowed himself to smile more and finally tear his gaze away from his drink, staring up at Chet’s dark charcoal eyes. He’d almost forgotten what they were talking about once he’d looked. “Colin. I wanted to call him Colin.” He nodded to himself.

“Yeah?” Chet seemed to move closer. “Any reason why?”

Bo shook his head. “Too much of my family was named after famous musicians. I wanted him to be able to be himself. Not live up to a legacy. Having the name of someone famous makes the classical music training difficult. Disheartening at times. Colin was similar enough to my own name as well, but seemed like a fresh start. Didn’t want him to struggle like me.”

Chet stared at Bo, his eyebrows into his hairline. “Your name is  _ what? _ ”

Bo could feel his face heat further and he quickly brought his glass to his lips, muttering into it before taking a drink. “Bo is short for Bolin. I never hid that. You just never asked.”

Chet grinned, sharp white teeth less threatening and more comforting with every passing second. “That’s cute. That’s really cute. Your name and your kid’s. I wasn’t allowed to name the first three girls. Finally got her to cave on this last one. We didn’t know for sure if it was gonna be a girl so I figured I’d choose something that would work for a boy or a girl. Ended up with Morgan. Smart huh?”

Bo nodded, laughter bubbling up again which he quietly suppressed. He shook his head. “Very. I like it. Morgan is cute. For a girl or boy. What are the other ones names?”

Chet hummed, going back to sitting back in his chair. “Meghan, Zoe, and Jayna. Meghan is great. Sweetheart. I honestly have no idea where she gets it from. She’ll make a great leader. I know it. Zoe is a little stubborn. Kinda stoic but she’s got a good heart and an even better head on her shoulders. Jayna?” He let out a low whistle. “She’s stubborn as her mother. Beautiful. An’ she knows it. Still a great girl though.”

“You must be proud,” Bo mused. He frowned, a sudden sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “Aren’t you worried? With the war and all. Will Meghan be alright? Outside of family feud I mean.”

Chet continued to smile, though it shifted to a sad one. He stared down into his drink again, downing the last of it and signaling the bartender for another. “She’s strong. I have faith in her. She and Morgan love each other already. It’s real cute. She’s-“ he nodded to himself, grabbing his new drink. “She’s a tough one.”

Bo nodded. “It sounds like you love them a lot.” He didn’t mean to sound sad. He couldn’t help it.

“Course I do. The kids I mean. Although-” he looked around as though to make sure no one was listening in “-they’re a huge hassle. Don’t know how much I really like havin’ them yaknow?”

Bo sighed. “Not really. Haven’t had mine yet. Truth be told I’m a little scared. I love the guy already. But I’m scared. I don’t want him getting dragged into family mess.” He frowned, trying to ignore the burning in the back of his throat and the stinging in his eyes. “I wish-“ he wanted to cut himself off and stop the thought but Chet’s concerned look and the way he edged his pinky ever so closer to Bo’s hand had him spilling his guts. “I don’t know.” He hiccuped. “I just wish we could run away or something. Not deal with the war. Familial and interzonal. I wish your daughter the best of luck but I just get so tired of life. You hear those stories of people faking their deaths to start a new and I just wish that were possible.” He immediately regretted dumping such an outburst of thoughts and feelings onto someone he hadn’t seen in so long. Someone he loved and hadn’t seen in years. Way to scare him off. 

Chet blinked slowly. He lurched forward, hands flying to Bo’s cheeks, squishing them and forcing Bo to look him in the eyes, their faces mere inches apart. “Why can’t you? Who says it won’t work? Can you imagine the adventures? The life you could make for yourself? No family war bullshit! Just what you want to do.” He poked a finger to Bo’s chest firmly and the latter could feel his heart beat faster. Chet’s excitement ignited a flustered eagerness of his own. His breathing picked up and his gaze flickered between Chet’s dazzling eyes to his slightly parted lips until he pressed his own against them and nearly melted.

He pulled back almost immediately, trying hard to rush out an apology though his mind worked faster than his mouth and all that came out was a slurred and incoherent mess.

Chet took one of Bo’s hands in his own, admiring it for a moment and looking up at Bo’s scarlet face. “I wanted to do that since we were kids. And you beat me to it.” He grinned.

Bo buried his face in his free hand, shaking his head vigorously. “Don’t say it like that!”

“How else am I supposed to say it? It’s the truth! Hey-“ Chet gently pried Bo’s hand away from his face, holding that hand in his own as well. “What if we do that?”

“Do what?” Bo didn’t like the twisting feeling in his gut.

“We stage a big fight. Right here. Right now. Classic feud. We end up killing each other. At least that’s what everyone  _ thinks.  _ In reality we run away together.”

Bo struggled to find words. Part of him rejoiced, screaming at him to say yes. It’s what he’d wanted since he’d first met Chet. The other part hid, shaking its head and telling him no. To remember the life he was supposed to lead and the baby he was supposed to have. All he wanted to do was cry. From sadness? From happiness? He wasn’t sure. “I- you- we-“ he swallowed again, his throat burning. “We have children. Kids. You don’t want to just leave them do you?”

Chet bit his lip and a moment later hung his head. He slowly dragged his hands down and around Bo’s waist, pulling him into a hug. He took a deep breath, leaning into Bo’s shoulder. “It’s a hard decision to make darlin’. It is. But I’m so sick of this shit. I’m tired of the fighting and the ranks and tryin’ to be the best of the best. I’m sick of the pod shit. Since we were just kids I wanted so bad fer all the bullshit to stop. To just hang out with you forever and ever. My kids got each other. They’ll be alright.” He shifted, pulling back and looking up at Bo, brushing stray hairs out of his face. “But I understand if you want to hang around fer yer kid. I’m askin’ a lot of you over a childhood crush. You don’t gotta pick me over yer own baby and wife. Hell, you ain’t even gotta decide now. We can come back to this plan later.”

Bo took a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves. “I’d like nothing more than that,” he let out a shaky breath. “Colin . . . He’d be fine. His mother already loves him more than anything in the world. It would be cruel and selfish of me to try and steal him from her. She has a wonderful younger brother who loves him too. They’d take wonderful care of him. He’ll have a lot of other family. I’m not worried about his well-being.”

“You always been so sweet darlin’. But I do understand that I done got to see all my kin. You ain’t even seen the little guy. It would be mighty selfish of me to steal you away from him like that too. Especially before you got the chance to meet him.”

Bo shook his head. “You’ve never been selfish. Maybe it would be better to go now. I’m afraid if I see him I won’t want to leave. Then I’d feel bad about not being with you. No matter what, I’m going to wonder if I made the right choice.” He sniffled, trying and failing to blink away his tears. “I wish things could have worked out better.”

“Aww, stop that. Don’t cry honey.” Chet gently wiped away at the stray tears, quietly shushing the other and offering a soft peck on the cheek. “I don’t wanna see you cry. Especially not because of me. If it’s too much we can just forget about this whole thing. Act like it never happened. Or we can work something else out. Like meeting up in secret or somethin’.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Secret meetups would just make me paranoid. We both know how that ended anyways. It’s just- there’s a lot to this. How do you expect to pull this off? And where do we go after?” Bo sniffled, shaking his head of bad thoughts and affixing his attention on Chet.

Chet hummed, drumming his fingers on the countertop. “The ocean’s a big place. We just go and keep goin’. An’ who says we gotta settle in one place? Ain’t there tons of people who migrate year round?”

Bo raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying we just live life on the run like criminals?”

“Like the Wild West, pardner.” Chet grinned, sly and smooth and so reminiscent of his teen years. Bo had to laugh. “We start fresh. No fighting. No traditions. No rules. We do what we want. We travel. We see the world. We make a home for ourselves where we fit in. Maybe we shag, I don’t know-“

“Dear Wallace,” Bo interjected with a groan.

Chet waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Point is- freedom. And lots of it.”

Bo crossed his arms, peering down at Chet skeptically. “Alright. But how are we supposed to stage a fight big enough to end in both of us getting killed?”

“Well first,” Chet pointed his finger, planting it down onto the bar top firmly. He leaned in a little closer, grinning stupidly and clearly tipsy. “I’m gonna need another beer to be drunk enough to pull this shit off.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futher flash to the future as a small bonus uwu

Bo twisted the pegs atop the new violin, plucking at the strings and nodding satisfactorily when the note rang out correctly in tune. Chet had broken him down over the years, breaking his classical orchestral streak to get him into country style fiddling. He had to admit, it was pretty fun, and after hearing Chet sing he’d gladly play any old or new western to get him to do it again.

Warm hands slid over his shoulders and down his chest, pulling him into a hug as Chet rested his chin on Bo’s shoulder. “How’s it goin’ music man?” He purred and Bo leaned into his touch.

“Fine. Just finished tuning. How are you my love?”

Chet hummed, rocking back and forth slightly as he held Bo. “I’m okay,” he drawled, peppering Bo’s cheek and jawline with kisses. Bo pursed his lips, glancing at Chet out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re being awfully sweet. Is something wrong? Not that I’m complaining at all. You’re just quiet for once.” 

Bo could hear Chet swallow. “About that,” Chet sighed. He fingered the strings of Bo’s violin and then trailed back to Bo’s chest, running along his collarbone and Bo rolled his eyes.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

Chet grinned, letting out a short, breathy laugh and shaking his head. “I would have to  _ try.  _ But sadly, no.” He kissed Bo’s cheek again, hugging him tighter and whispering in his ear. “Our boys might have gotten into a fight again,” he murmured.

Bo deflated, immediately frowning. “For fuck’s sake- did they seriously injure each other?”

Chet shrugged. “Eh, nah. Morgan’s a fighter an’ Colin’s big an’ strong. They ain’t gonna do much to each other.” He tilted his head, resting it against the side of Bo’s. “Boys will be boys. Let ‘em have their spats. Testosterone ridden retards they are. Maybe someday they’ll knock sense into each other an’ then start actin’ like adults.”

Bo huffed, though he still nuzzled into Chet’s touch. “Colin doesn’t trust easy. He gets defensive. And so does Morgan.”

Chet chuckled, humming quietly. “I kinda like that boy. Sharp tongue an’ wit.”

“Of course you do.”

“What’s ‘at s’posed to mean? Ah, whatever. Don’t matter. Just thought I should let ya know so yer not too concerned about our son’s faces bein’ all bruised up.”

Bo groaned, reaching behind him to try and hug Chet back. “You’re adorable.” He turned his head, giving Chet a quick peck on the cheek which earned him a dopey smile. “I’m glad you’re concerned about their well-being and my sanity.”

Chet frowned, moving back, hands on his hips with a slight pout in the way Bo knew meant he’d gotten offended somehow. “Colin’s just as much my kid as yers and I’d hope you feel the same way about-”

“Yes, yes, I know. Of course I feel the same way about Morgan. I just wish  _ they’d _ feel more like siblings.”

Chet shrugged. “Sure they do! They’re doin’ what me an’ my pod did when we were kids. They’re family and they’re actin’ the part. Little rough housin’, couple o’ punches here an’ there. Aint nothin irregular.”

Bo looked Chet up and down. “I worry about your definition of normal. They’re both adults. Not children or even teenagers anymore.”

“Whatever,” Chet breathed. “Anywho, how’s about a family trip? Maybe get some bonding time in. Get them to work together a little more.”

Bo blinked, slowly looking over at Chet. “That’s- that’s actually a really good idea! We could use a vacation. And I love spending time with them. And you. Especially you.”

Chet pumped his fist in the air with a quiet but victorious “yes.” “Hell yeah, let’s plan somethin’ fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I write the family trip? Who knows.


End file.
